


i get by (but it's eating me alive)

by Livinei



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: (but it's not very graphic. and he's not like beating the shit out of him or anyhitng), Child Abuse, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add tags later, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-11 00:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16465133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livinei/pseuds/Livinei
Summary: “Do you not want to be home?” Tony starts.“No.”Tony considers for a moment. Peter’s never not wanted to be home. Not before… Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t know a lot about David. Peter doesn’t bring him up a lot, and when he does then he’s not very eager to discuss it for long. Tony hasn’t gotten an impression that Peter’s particularly fond of the guy, though.“...Is it because of David?”“Yeah,” his answer is barely audible.“Why don’t you want to be near him?”“It’s- He’s just mean.”Tony frowns at that. How mean does one have to be to make Peter stay away from his own home?“What does he do?”“He yells,” Peter says, voice wavering, and he’s still avoiding Tony’s eyes. But Tony can feel the muscles under his hand tense, and suddenly, there’s a horrible sinking feeling in his guts.“Is that all?”AKA i wanted to try the trope of may getting a new boyfriend who isn't really a nice guy





	i get by (but it's eating me alive)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not entirely happy with how it turned out but hey, you can't do everything well all the time. have at it anyways, and leave a comment to let me know what you think!

When May starts telling him she’s going out with a friend, Peter’s happy for her. He’s happy she’s finally taking time to do something to herself, being social, spending time with someone, having fun. She looks like she had fun, when she comes back.

Peter knows that, because at first, May only goes out on the evenings when Peter is home. He’s allowed to patrol three nights a week, and May never arranges anything on those days. She wants to be 100 percent available those days, and see with her own eyes that Peter returns in one piece and isn’t hiding an injury anywhere.

“May, it’s fine, I can just call Tony if I need help, you don’t have to stay in to see that I’m okay,” he assures her several times, but it’s not until a month later that she finally agrees, but only on the condition that Peter swings by the Tower and then _Tony_ has to send her a text that Peter’s fine. Peter would be affronted by how little she trusts his word, except, well, okay, he can agree she kind of has a reason to. He doesn’t exactly have a clean record with these sorts of things.

Most of the time, Peter can honestly forget about the fact that May is seeing someone. His world doesn’t change much from it.

At one point, May starts spending the night away sometimes - of course, she lets him know beforehand when that’s happening - and on those nights Peter is the most aware of the fact that there is someone else in her life, but he’s _happy_. She deserves that. She deserves to have someone else who loves her, after all the suffering Ben’s death put her through. And so he doesn’t take it for anything that he has to cook his own food on some nights, or that he doesn’t have anyone’s breathing to listen to in the next room before he falls asleep.

One day, May sits down next to him on the sofa, and Peter glances up to see her give him a soft smile. Peter lowers his phone. It didn’t seem like Happy was properly appreciating the new cat pictures he sent him anyways. Peter really needs to have a chat with him about the rudeness of leaving someone on read.

“Hey, May. What’s up?”

“Hey, sweetheart. You know David? The guy I’ve been going out with for a few months? I’d like for you to meet him,” she says, pulling at her fingers. It’s a nervous tick she has. Peter has seen her pull at her fingers too many times to count. When she had to call the landlord to tell him that they need a little more time. When Ben broke his nose because he fell from the attic ladder at May’s mother’s house. When she had send Peter off to take a bus to school alone for the first time. She pulled at her fingers a lot after Ben died.

Peter turns her words over in his head and nods.

“Okay. I’d like to meet him.”

“Is it okay that I bring him over tomorrow?”

“Yeah! Yeah, sure!”

 

David is taller than Peter, has green eyes and dirty blond hair, a slightly crooked nose, sturdy build, and a strong grip.

And Peter wants to get a far away from him as possible.

As soon as he enters the apartment and sees May and David chatting on the living room couch, his spidey-sense goes off so abruptly he almost flinches. He has to consciously stop himself from backing down when David comes to give him a handshake.

And the worst thing is, he seems _nice_ . He makes an effort to talk to Peter, cracks a joke here and there, he asks about Peter’s interests, and May seems so _happy_ when she talks with him. Peter has absolutely no idea why David makes his skin crawl.

He excuses himself as soon as is socially acceptable, and escapes to his room with the excuse of homework, hearing May and David talk and laugh and trying desperately to focus on the fact that he makes May happy. Peter is probably just getting sick or something.

It’s what he keeps telling himself when May comes to his room after David leaves, and asks him what he thought of him.

“Yeah, I like him,” he says with a thin-lipped smile. It must seem genuine enough, because May looks like he told her the happiest news of her life.

 

“I don’t like him,” he tells Ned, as the two sit down at their lunch table. “Ned, I don’t like him at all. He gives me the creeps.”

Ned pushes the olives from his plate onto Peter’s, and gives him a worried look.

“Do you just not like him or is it the, uh, the S-thing?” he asks, discreetly - as discreetly as he can manage - referring to Peter’s spidey-sense. Peter plops one olive in his mouth.

“Both.”

“Have you told May that?” Ned frowns, and Peter quickly shakes his head.

“Think maybe you should?”

“He makes her happy,” Peter argues, “and he hasn’t done anything wrong! He seems like a completely okay guy. I don’t know why I don’t like him, it wouldn’t be fair to May if I tell her.”

“But your S-thing. That’s something, Peter,” Ned reminds him, and Peter sighs, shrugging.

“Maybe it’s just…broken.”

 

David comes over more and more often, and the feeling doesn’t lessen. He usually doesn’t pay Peter much attention, and Peter’s perfectly okay with that. He doesn’t join May and David unless May asks him to, and even then only if he can’t  excuse himself with something. May tries not to push him.

As time goes on, however, David’s attitude changes, and Peter starts thinking maybe he isn’t that nice after all. Never around May. He’s very good to May, Peter sees that. But sometimes, when May’s not there, he starts being different.

“Aren’t you gonna wash that?” he asks one time, when Peter puts his empty cereal bowl into the sink. He looks distasteful. Peter blinks.

“May does the dishes,” he explains, “and dusts the countertops. I vacuum the floors and take the trash out. It’s our system.”

“I think you’re old enough to do your own dishes,” David says to that, his tone not cold, but chilly. Peter’s chest constricts uncomfortably, and he washes the bowl.

“Don’t you think you eat kind of a lot,” David says another time, and Peter splutters, shocked.

“What?”

“Your aunt doesn’t have a lot of money, you know. And you aren’t working to help her out.”

“I am,” Peter protests, feeling his heart and cheeks burn partly in embarrassment, partly in offense at the implication that he’s the reason May doesn’t have a lot of money. “I’m interning at Stark Industries, I get paid. I help.”

“Hm. Still, you could eat a bit less. You don’t need to eat that much. Food isn’t cheap, you know.”

Peter _does_ need to eat that much, his super-metabolism is a cross to bear. And he’s angry at David for implying he’s burdening May, but he also starts to eat a little less at home now. He makes up for it by eating more at school, finishing whatever Ned doesn’t want (he has a suspicion Ned might have figured something out and is purposefully getting more than he eats, but he hasn’t asked about it), having a meal at Tony’s when he’s there (because Tony always asks him if he’s eaten, and makes him eat something when he says he hasn’t or wants to. Peter makes Tony eat with him, then, so it’s a win-win really) before going home, or occasionally grabbing a sandwich from Delmar’s.

It’s not ideal, but he can deal with it. He’s willing to deal with it for May’s sake.

(“How’s May’s new guy, by the way?” Tony asks him once, half-hidden under a car while Peter hands him a wrench, “Daniel? All good?”

“David,” Peter responds, scrunching up his nose and giving a half-hearted shrug. He hesitates before answering. “He’s…fine. I don’t really _like_ him but, uh, he’s fine.”)

 

It all gets worse when May and David have been dating for five months, three of which Peter has known him. Because May wants him to move in with them.

“I just want you to know, he’s not replacing Ben or anything. No one could replace Ben,” May says to him, sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed while Peter is frozen in his swivel-chair after May broke the news to him. He feels faint. “And he’s not _trying_ to replace him, or your dad. But I really think that what we have is something serious, and I really want him to become a bigger part of our lives.”

 _I don’t_ , Peter thinks, his stomach churning.

“Besides, I think you could do well with a father figure close to home,” she continues with a hesitant smile, and Peter immediately thinks of how the music in Tony’s workshop is always on low volume now that he goes there a lot, and the time he fell asleep at the lab desk while doing his homework after a late night of patrolling and woke up with Tony’s jacket draped over his shoulders like a blanket, and how Tony helped him prepare for his Spanish test that he’d totally forgotten about and remembered the day before the test so Tony had paused working on his project and focused on Peter the entire evening.

He _has_ a father figure, and a second home to go with it.

“Of course, if you feel like you’re not ready yet, I won’t have him move in,” May says, a worried gleam in her eyes, “It’s just something we’ve talked about. But nothing’s more important than you, Peter. This is your home too.”

And Peter _knows_ that if he says no, May won’t ask David to move in.

But he remembers the way she laughs when she’s with him, and the small smile on her lips when he talks. Peter can’t take that away. May deserves this.

“Yeah,” he says, and his mouth is dry, but he forces a smile, “he- yeah, we can try living with him.”

So David moves in.

 

Peter hates it. He _hates_ it.

David’s comments grow to be a common occurrence.

At one point, he starts pushing Peter when moving past him. It keeps happening. Never when May’s there. But May’s at work a lot.

When he gets upset and yells at Peter about it, he grips Peter’s wrist hard enough that an hour or two later there are purple bruises decorating Peter’s skin. They’re gone by next morning, so it doesn’t really matter. Peter doesn’t say anything. David’s kind of a jerk, but he doesn’t mean to _hurt_ him, he’s just reckless.

He keeps being reckless.

 

Peter can’t remember the last time he felt at ease in his own home anymore. David works from home, so he’s almost always there.

Peter learns quickly that David doesn’t really like it when he’s there. And he doesn’t really like being there when David’s there anyways, so he starts spending as little time at home as possible.

He doesn’t miss a single decathlon practice. He does his homework in the library, or at Tony’s place when it’s a Tony day. He starts going to band practice again. He gets well-acquainted with the park near his school, and feeds the squirrels who reside there, so soon they’re not afraid of him anymore. He clocks in more hours with the actual Stark internship, and stays longer when he’s there for the non-intern stuff, to be with Tony and Pepper. And when he eventually has to go home, he goes straight to his room, only eating dinner if May’s already home, otherwise opting for a snack after everyone is asleep.

On Spider-Man days, he pushes his curfew to get back later.

Karen warns him that he won’t get enough sleep if he gets back this late, but the truth is that it doesn’t matter, because Peter can’t sleep either way now.

He _can’t_ sleep. He’s almost startled when he realizes this. He gets into bed and lies curled up under the covers, and he _tries_ , but he can hear David’s breathing from the other side of the wall, and it fills with him anxiety, tenses his muscles, and keeps him up.

He remembers when he was ten years old and playing Minecraft with Ned. _You can’t sleep when there are monsters nearby._ It feels a lot like that.

So, a little after he realizes that he can’t sleep because of David’s presence, he tries to solve the problem as best as he can without actually telling anyone about it.

David, thank heavens, doesn’t really chase after Peter or demand him be home on time. In fact, Peter’s almost sure he doesn’t even think about him a lot when Peter’s out of sight. If anything, he’s glad. So Peter starts spending the nights elsewhere at much as he’s able to.

He has sleepovers at Ned’s place as often as he can without rousing suspicion. Ned gives him a knowing look every now and then, but has learned that pressing Peter bears no fruit.

(Still, he tries.

“If he’s keeping you away from your home, May should know, that isn’t okay, Peter,” Ned says, serious, and points at Peter’s chest with a gummy worm.

“He’s not keeping me away, I just don’t want to be there,” Peter replies, rubbing his forearms, “and he’s good to May.”

“But he isn’t good to you, May wouldn’t want that! You told me he shoves you! You have to tell someone.”

“It’s fine, Ned, really. I’ll tell someone if it gets too bad, promise.”)

He also starts spending the night at the Stark Tower more and more often. Eventually, Peter gets to a point where he is staying at the Tower on the better half of the days of the week.

He knows Tony doesn’t mind, Tony’s told him several times that Peter’s welcome there literally any time, whenever he needs or wants, and there’s a glad little sparkle that ignites in his eyes each time Peter asks if he can stay the night, but Peter still has an armful of excuses ready to go. Just in case.

On the nights where he can’t find a way around being home, he sometimes exits their apartment after May and David fall asleep and goes to sleep in the apartment building’s boiler room (it’s relatively warm, and he doesn’t feel like there’s danger lurking behind the wall there), or he takes a nap in the library after school.

He gets by.

 

That’s all before David hits him. Because David _hits_ him. Actually hits. Peter doesn’t know _why_ David’s mad, but he is, and he’s not completely sober either, and when Peter speaks up against something he says, David smacks him across the head with his fist so hard that Peter stumbles back and falls against a kitchen counter.

For a hot millisecond, Peter is frozen.

 _Bad bad bad bad bad bad badbadbadbadbadbad this is bad,_ his mind supplies him, and his guts feel like they’ve been drenched in ice.

He’s Spider-Man, he’s had worse. This doesn’t even count as getting hurt, really.

But for some reason, for some godawful _stupid_ reason getting hit by David makes him feel more terrified than being stabbed by a street mugger ever has.

His mind is running in circles, hazy, and on shock and adrenaline alone he jumps up and bolts out the door.

_Away away away get away from him get away run run run._

Only when Peter’s four streets away does he stop and think. He’s gasping for air, the initial shock wearing off, and he feels suspiciously like he’s about to cry, and he doesn’t know what to _do_.

It’s 9 in the evening on a Friday. He’s wearing a light cardigan that isn’t nearly enough to keep the chill out for long. Peter’s spidersuit sits hidden in the vents above his room - no web-swinging.

May’s shift doesn’t end until 3AM, but Peter doubts he’d go back right now even if May came home in half an hour.

 _You have to tell someone_ , Ned’s voice in his head echoes. Ned. Ned’s not home, he’s visiting his grandparents this weekend, they have a wedding anniversary. He can’t go to Ned’s place.

Tony.

For once, his infamous Parker luck spares him a little bit, because Peter fishes his phone out of his pocket, feeling immensely grateful he hadn’t left it in his bag.

Tony picks up on the second ring.

“Well, hey, kid! You okay?” he says, voice cheerful but laced with a string of worry. Peter tries to calm his erratic heartbeat and releases a shaky laugh.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he lies, starting to walk to keep the chill out. It’s okay. Tony picked up, Peter’s talking to him. He’ll be okay. He won’t sleep on the streets.

“Hey, uh, so, I’m in town at the moment but I kind of left all of my stuff at home, and, uh, I was just wondering if I get a taxi to the Tower, can I tell the driver that you’ll pay?”

Tony lets out a genuine laugh at that, and the sound makes some of the horrible icy feeling in Peter’s gut disappear.

“You’re worried about _that?_ Knock yourself out, kid,” Tony says, his tone dismissive. Then there’s a pause, and Peter can vividly imagine a raised eyebrow on the man’s face as he backtracks.

“Why are you getting a _cab_ to my place anyways, you know I can just send Happy to get you or come pick you up myself, right?” he notes, sounding a little confused. “Or, well, it’s kind of late so I’d probably make Happy come. Unless you very specifically want it to be me. I’m feeling forthcoming right now. Think fast,” he adds after a considering pause.

They both know Tony would come personally any time that Peter asked for it.

But right now, he doesn’t ask.

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter says, and feels an uncomfortable shiver run up his spine. He holds the phone in place between his shoulder and ear, and uses both hands to pull the cardigan tighter around himself, “but I’ll take the taxi. I’m not exactly, ah, dressed according to weather and it’d be kinda cold to wait for you to get here. I’ll see you in a bit!”

 

Peter gets out of the cab 40 minutes later. He’s up in Tony’s penthouse three minutes after that.

He’s had time to calm down during the drive uptown, but he doesn’t feel completely relaxed before he steps out of the elevator. Tony is in the living room, looking up from a hologram of some sort of prototype when Peter enters, and dismisses it out of sight with a flick of his hand.

“Hey, kid,” he greets with a smile, and Peter can see his eyes flick down and back up again as he checks for any injuries Peter might be trying to hide. It’s a habit at this point.

“Pepper flew off to Hong Kong this morning, so you’ll have to settle for just me this time. Which shouldn’t be a problem because obviously I’m your favourite. Right?”

“If I say you are, would you be willing to fly me to Hong Kong?” Peter asks, and Tony shoots him a betrayed glance, but the corners of his mouth are upturned.

“ _Hey-_ Well… Okay, that’s fair, nobody can compare with Pepper,” he relents, and Peter follows him further into the living room, “I’m a close second though.”

“Definitely.”

Tony gestures to the couch, motioning him to sit down, and Peter misses the crease between his eyebrows when he observes Peter’s clothes. By the time Peter looks back at him, Tony’s face is carefully blank of any suspicions.

“Anyways. You don’t usually visit this late unless you’re spidering around, what’s up? Teenage rebellion? Runaway? Separation anxiety?”

Peter huffs a laugh, and plops down on the sofa armrest.

“Sleepover? Can’t I visit my second favourite person in the world without a deeper motive?”

“Separation anxiety it is,” Tony decides, giving him a teasing grin, but behind that, he seems pensive.

“Does May know you’re here?” Tony asks, and Peter nods, thinking about the text he sent her in the taxi.

“Okay.”

Peter’s pretty sure Tony has figured out that something is wrong. He’s one of the smartest people Peter knows. So he looks away when the man’s eyes narrow.

Tony looks like he has questions. Peter hopes he won’t ask them. And at the same time there’s a smaller part of him that desperately wants him to.

Peter has been carrying all this horrible bullshit for months, hiding it, and it’s oppressing him, drowning him, and he’s alone and he doesn’t want to be, he just wants someone to help him-

But he doesn’t know how to ask for it, and the idea of someone knowing is scary. Right now, he knows what’s happening, and in a sick way he finds a little bit of comfort in that. If he tells, something’s going to change, and there’s no way of knowing what.

Tony looks at him for a few moments, and seems to opt for dropping it for now. But Peter can read him well enough to figure that it’s not for long.

“Hot chocolate?” Tony asks instead, and the relieved part of Peter pushes down the desperate part.

“Yeah.”

 

As feared, Peter’s relief is short-lived. Roughly half an hour later, they’re in Tony’s workshop. Peter’s leaning against a desk with his half-full cup of hot chocolate, handing Tony tools and looking at him tinker. He’s almost managed to pack the bad feelings away into a messy box and shoved it away. Almost.

“So, are we going to talk about it?” Tony asks, eyes focused on his work.

“About what?” Peter says, shifting uncomfortably before handing him  a screwdriver.

“About why you’re here, Pete,” Tony straightens up, turning to look at Peter. His face is serious. “More specifically, why you came here at nine in the evening, why you got here in a cab and not in your suit, why you were freezing on the street wearing only _that_ in the middle of November.”

 _Tell him, tell him_ , a voice that sounds suspiciously like Ned, says.

“I just wanted to give May and David some time alone,” he shrugs, trying to look dismissive. He doesn’t even need to see himself to know he’s failing.

“That’s funny, because May’s at work right now,” Tony counters, his gaze firm and piercing, and Peter feels bad both for lying to him and for being so easily caught.

Tony steps out from behind the desk and thoughtfully makes his way in front of Peter. He’s silent for a moment, and Peter’s avoiding his eyes. Tony looks hesitant for a second, but changes tactics.

“You’ve been staying here a lot lately, kiddo,” he gently says. Peter’s eyes grow wide and Tony raises his hand before Peter can even open his mouth.

“Hush, don’t even start. I don’t _mind_ , Pete, I love it when you’re here. Hell, if you told me you’ve decided to move in here full time starting tomorrow, I’d be more than fine with that. But it’s not like you to want to be away from your aunt that much. You value your time with her. I can’t help but think there’s a reason you’re not home all that much anymore. And now all this shady shit tonight? Kid-” Tony cuts himself off, takes a breath, and he looks fraught now. Peter hates himself for being the cause of that.

“Peter, you can talk to me. I don’t care how small you think it is, or how unimportant, I want to hear it, just _please_ talk to me.”

And he wants to. Suddenly he wants to, he wants to tell Tony everything, and Peter opens his mouth- and he _can’t_ . It’s like something has got a hold on his throat, and he just can’t get the words out, and he _wants to._

The look he gives Tony is filled with desperation, and, thank god, Tony seems to understand. He puts a soothing hand on Peter’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. How about I ask, and you answer? Can you do that?”

Peter nods, keeping his eyes trained on a spot on Tony’s shoulder. He can do that. He can answer questions. He just can’t _tell_.

“Do you not want to be home?” Tony starts.

“No.”

Tony considers for a moment. Peter’s never not wanted to be home. Not before… Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t know a lot about David. Peter doesn’t bring him up a lot, and when he does then he’s not very eager to discuss it for long. Tony hasn’t gotten an impression that Peter’s particularly fond of the guy, though.

“...Is it because of David?”

“Yeah,” his answer is barely audible.

“Why don’t you want to be near him?”

“It’s- He’s just mean.”

Tony frowns at that. How mean does one have to be to make Peter stay away from his own home?

“What does he do?”

“He yells,” Peter says, voice wavering, and he’s still avoiding Tony’s eyes. But Tony can feel the muscles under his hand tense, and suddenly, there’s a horrible sinking feeling in his guts.

“Is that all?” he asks, grip on Peter’s shoulder tightening a little.

He wishes he’s wrong. Please god let him be wrong, let that guy just be a regular jerk.

But Peter’s not answering, and upon an attentive look Tony can make out the beginnings of a forming bruise on his cheekbone. It’s barely noticeable yet, but it’s there, and Tony feels the horror settle in his stomach.

“Peter. Does he hurt you? Does he hit you?”

Peter’s eyes whip to his.

“No,” he squeaks, and it sounds too fast even to himself. He looks ashamed, and Tony’s heart shatters.

“I mean… He hasn’t _hit_ me before, today was the first time,” he says weakly, eyes wide, and as soon as the words leave his mouth so does the last of his composure.

He’s pulled into a hug before the first tear has time to hit the ground, and Peter finally lets go.

Tony’s hugs are different from May’s. Tony’s hugs don’t support, they protect. They engulf him, they drive away all the bad guys and bullies and failed tests and memories of people he couldn’t save, and, somehow, they make the world shrink. They make the world so small that the hug is the only thing left that exists, and everything else disappears. Nothing can hurt him then.

He doesn’t know how long he cries, he doesn’t understand the words of the reassuring mumbles he vaguely hears. He clings onto the back of Tony’s shirt like it’s the only thing tethering him to the planet, and he just _cries_.

Peter feels hollow when the tears run out, but he also feels like a mountain has been lifted from his shoulders.

He’s exhausted and overwhelmed, his limbs feel heavy, and Peter’s afraid Tony will pull away now that he’s calmed down, but Tony doesn’t let go. He keeps his hands firmly around Peter, muttering soothing words into his hair, shielding him from the evils of the world that Peter can’t seem to control, and a weak, tired sob racks through Peter’s body.

Tony gently steers him to the worn leather couch in the corner of the workshop, and Peter sinks into his chest as they sit down.

“How long?” Tony asks, keeping his voice low, and Peter can feel it rumble through his chest. Tony’s breathing is even, but his heartbeat is fast. Peter focuses on the breathing.

“He’s been living with us for a little over a month,” he mumbles, picking at the fabric of Tony’s shirt. “So about that long. He- he shoves me and squeezes my arms too hard and- Before he moved in it was just weird mean comments. I- he’s good to May.

“I’ve- I can’t sleep at home, when he’s there, so I’ve been trying to. You know. Sleep here or at Ned’s.”

Tony’s hand is playing with his hair. It’s familiar. It’s safe. Peter feels safe. But he can also still feel Tony’s heart beat too fast, and can hear his thoughts race a million miles a second. There’s a kind of tension radiating from him that Peter can recognize.

“You’re angry,” he mutters, feeling regret creep up his lungs, and Tony’s hand in his hair stills, “I can feel it in your bones.”

Tony lets out a breath, and pulls Peter closer.

“Not at you, kid. Jesus, not at you,” he says with an equally quiet voice, dragging a free hand over his face.

“I’m angry at that dipshit for hurting you. Fuck, I’m angry at myself, for not starting to press sooner, for not figuring it out, for- God, I could have figured it out ages ago if I’d just paid a little more attention. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Peter.”

He sounds miserable, and bitter, and Peter can almost physically feel how the self-blame is swallowing Tony whole.

“Stop,” he shakes his head, giving Tony’s torso a small squeeze, “I was doing my best to hide it. You can’t blame yourself for not seeing. By that logic, May’s at fault, and everyone else too.”

“May’s at work more than she’s home,” Tony sighs, clenching his jaw, “I see you all the time.”

“Still not your fault,” Peter softly says, and for a few minutes, neither of them say anything.

After a while, though, Peter gnaws at his lip and then speaks up.

“You’re not gonna let me keep it a secret, are you?”

Tony huffs out a breath that serves as a joyless laugh.

“Definitely not, kiddo.”

“I’ve been hit before, I get beat up on patrol all the time. It’s nothing.”

There’s a strain in Tony’s voice when he speaks.

“What he does isn’t that, Pete. It’s abuse.”

It’s an ugly word. It makes Peter cringe.

“But he doesn’t hurt May, and he makes her happy. She has to be happy, Tony. I could- I could just spend more time here. Come here every night after they’ve gone to sleep and just show my face there every once in a while when May’s home. David doesn’t want me there, he wouldn’t tell her that I’m always away.”

At this, Tony gently pushes him away by the shoulders to look him straight in the eye.

“Do you think she’d be happy with him if she knew what he’s doing to you? Peter, you’re more important than any boyfriend she’ll ever have, she’s happy when you’re safe. And this kind of shit doesn’t stay hidden, it comes out sooner or later whether you want it or not,” he says, voice serious. “And, okay, he’s not hurting May now. But what if you’re not enough one day? What if he gets mad at her one day? It could happen years from now, or it could happen next month, but fact is that right now he’s hurting a 16-year-old _child_ and that’s tells me that it _will_ happen eventually. Do you want to wait for that?”

Peter’s blood runs cold at the thought. He didn’t consider that as a possibility. David loves May.

His shoulders sag in defeat.

“Now?”

He’s too tired to feel afraid. But the thought of telling her stirs an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Tony’s eyes soften and he lets go of Peter’s shoulders, pulling his head close to his chest.

“Not today. It’s late, and you need to sleep. We’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“You’ll come?”

“Won’t have you go back there alone, kid. I’ll be right there with you.”

 

“You okay?” Tony asks him for the tenth time, giving him a concerned look, and Peter presses his lips into a thin line.

They’re parked on the street in front of Peter’s house, and it’ll be 5PM in fifteen minutes. He’s already pushed the visit forward for the whole day, and he’s stalling even now. He doesn’t want to get out of the car.

“David’s probably home too,” he says with uncertainty, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“I’m right next to you every second, Pete, I won’t leave you alone with him,” Tony reassures him with a steady look, and Peter bites his lip, looking out of the car window and at their living room window. He can’t see anyone moving, but the lights are on.

“After we tell her, can I stay at the Tower for one more night?” he asks, looking back to Tony. He’s not sure he can sleep in his room today even after David leaves. If he leaves.

“Of course. You can stay anytime, for as long as you want, kiddo. You don’t have to ask. FRIDAY will let you in even if I’m not there.”

Peter lets out a breath, grateful, and nods.

“Okay, let’s go.”

He forces himself to calm down, and actually manages to keep himself from freaking out all the way up to his floor. But as soon as Peter steps into the hallway, he stops.

His spidey-sense is already buzzing, which means that David is definitely home, and Peter feels his heart speed up and mouth dry within seconds.

Tony’s hand is on his back, and the look that Peter gives him is scared.

“Could you- Can you be the one to tell her?” he asks, breathless, and Tony feels another surge of anger at the man who caused all this.

“If you want me to, ‘course,” he promises.

When he gives a hard knock on the Parkers’ door, Peter takes a little step back, putting Tony between himself and the door, and Tony thinks there’s a risk he might punch David as soon as he sees him.

He takes a deep breath and gets himself in check.

It’s May who gets the door.

“Peter! Tony, hi! I didn’t know you were coming over today. Come on in,” she greets, looking surprised but smiling widely at them.

“Hey, May,” Tony says with a controlled smile that has trouble reaching his eyes. He steps into the small apartment, Peter following him. Peter gives May a quick hug as he goes past her, muttering a greeting into her hair. Her hair is damp and smells of strawberry shampoo, and Peter thinks she must have washed it a couple hours ago after getting home from work. Her hair has always taken a long time to dry.

“Please, sit. Can I get you anything? Tea?” she offers, gesturing to the couch and looking at them expectantly. Tony shakes his head, remaining standing, and the smile he gives her this time is a little more genuine.

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Alright,” May shrugs, leaning against the isle that separates the kitchen and the living room. “So, what’s going on? What have you boys been up to? Peter, you’re very…quiet.”

Peter startles, snapping his head up, but not because of May.

David steps out of the bedroom. He freezes, taking in the scene, and Peter stares at the ground.

“Hi? Uh, babe, what’s going on?” David says, a confused smile on his face as he stares between May, Tony, and Peter.

“Oh, David,” May says, a soft smile dancing on her lips, and Peter’s heart aches. “Tony, you haven’t met David, right?”

Tony’s eyes are piercing, and what warmth there was on his face moments ago is a mere memory now.

“Haven’t had the pleasure, I’m afraid,” he says, voice tense.

“David, I’m sure you know who Tony Stark is. Well, he’s a family friend,” May explains to David, “Peter’s very close to him.”

“Huh, oh yeah, Peter likes science and engineering stuff. Good to meet you,” he says, smiling at them politely and extending a hand to Tony. Tony stares at it with cold indifference.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, it won’t be in a bit,” he says, and May gives him a slightly confused, slightly offended look. “Because David here is kind of the reason I’m here.”

David pulls his hand back, adopting a guarded expression, and May looks back and forth between them.

“What do you mean?” she asks, face morphing into uncertainty.

“Babe-”

“Peter took a cab to the Tower last night and broke down crying because this fucking sick pile of shit used him as punching practice,” Tony says, his tone indecipherable, “And apparently, it’s not the first time he’s hurt him.”

May looks like she’s just been punched.

“What?” she asks weakly, and David spreads his arms, looking angry.

“That’s bullshit!” he exclaims, “May, when have I ever hurt anyone?! _Why_ would I hit Peter? God, the kid just made up a sob-story to get attention, I haven’t laid a finger on him.”

“No, no, Peter wouldn’t lie about that, what the fuck, David, what- You _hit_ my _kid?_ ” she says, shaking her head, and her voice rises so much that it’s hurting Peter’s ears. There’s fire in her eyes, and David gives her a shocked look.

“You _believe_ th- I told you, I haven’t touched him!” he shouts, face red. “He just-”

David takes a step towards Peter, seeming annoyed and incredulous, and Peter’s muscles can barely tense before Tony’s pushed him back and stepped in front of him, facing the other man, and suddenly Peter can feel that same fury that he could sense in Tony the night before. Except a lot worse.

Peter thought he’d seen an angry Tony Stark before. It had involved him, you know, almost drowning a ferry and possibly gotten hundreds of innocent civilians killed, and Peter had thought Tony was frightening then.

That couldn’t even come _close_ to what Tony looks like now. Peter had not seen an angry Tony Stark before.

He’s livid. He’s _furious_ . A crackling, sizzling, _burning_ aura shoots off of him in waves, engulfs the whole apartment, and although Tony and David are around the same height, with each step Tony takes forward it seems like he’s making everyone else shrink. His eyes are hyperfocused on David’s face, and, Peter thinks in a daze, objectively, he’s terrifying. If _that_ Tony were set on him, he would be really, truly _afraid_.

David looks like he is. Peter feels a pang of sympathy, for a moment, but then remembers the fist against his cheek, the hands around his wrists, the countless times he’s been shoved into a wall, feeling bad about eating, laying awake in his bed at night and not being able to sleep, and he feels a little less bad.

The Iron Man gauntlet forms around Tony’s hand as he walks steadfast right in front of David’s nose, and David stumbles when trying to step back. The repulsor audibly charges up, making David flinch, and when Tony speaks, the venom dripping from his very words would be enough to murder a population of a small country.

“If you,” he says, and his voice is low, and dangerous, his eyes ablaze and teeth shining in a predatory snarl, “so much as dare _think_ about touching my kid, I will break both your arms before you can so much as blink, and I'm not saying that to be dramatic.”

“Are- Are you _threatening_ me?”

“Yeah, I’m threatening you, genius. But I’m promising you this - if you ever even look at Peter Parker - _or_ his aunt - again, I will _personally_ have you thrown behind so many locks that you’ll have to pass three security checks to even get to the toilet. Am I clear?”

For seconds, no one says a thing. David is the first one that looks away.

“Clear,” he forces out between his teeth.

Aunt May looks murderous.

“Get out of my apartment. _Get out_ before I claw your eyes out,” she hisses, clenching her hands into fists, and David, smartly, goes.

 

Peter doesn’t remember a lot of details after that. He knows that he cries, and that she cries, and that Tony helps him keep talking when he can’t get the words out, but overall it’s a blur.

What he knows for sure though, is that later when he curls up under his blanket in the Tower (May’s staying in the room next to him tonight, because Tony thought David might want to go back to the apartment, and didn’t want May to be alone there) it finally feels like everything is going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> btw, i was hesitant about making tony threaten him with violence at first; those of you who read my previous fic might remember that over there i wrote him addressing the situation with flash in a pretty composed manner, because i believe he would keep his cool in these situations if ever he is able. but flash is a high school bully. david is a grown man, who is abusing a kid, and i think it this situation at the end of this fic it's more realistic that tony would be inclined to bite his fucking head off so that's why i wrote it the way i did there


End file.
